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NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. . U. HOTTING, Editor. ISo. 36.—NEW SERIES.] NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE. terms: Published weekly at Three Dollars per annum, if paid at the time of subscribing i or Three Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid till the expi ration of six months. No paper to be discontinued, unless at the option of the Editor, without the settlement of all arrearages. O* Letters, on business, must be post paid, to insure attention. No communication shall be. published, unless n-e arc made acquainted with the mime of the author. TO ADVERTISERS. Advertisements, not exceeding one square, first insertion, Seventy-fire Cents; and for each sub sequmu insp rf j on Pi/),! Cents. A reduction will be made of twenty-five per cent, to those who advertise by the year. Advertisements not limited when handed in, will be inserted till for bid, and charged accordingly. Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad ministrators, and Guardians, are required by law, to be Advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sales of Personal Property must be adver tised in like manner, forty days. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must b,e published forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published weekly for four months; notice that application will be made for Letters of Administration, must be published thirty days; and Letters of Dismission, six months. AGENTS. THE FOLLOWING GF.NTLF.MEN WILL FORWARD THE NAMES OF ANY WHO MAY WISH TO SUBSCRIBE : J. T. O. 11. Wooten,\A. D. Stalliam, Danburg, Mallorysville, B. F. Tatom, Lincoln- Felix Os. Edwards, Pe- ton, tersburg, Elbert, O. A. Lucketl, Crawford- Gcn, Crier, Raytown, vilie, Taliaferro, * TP. Davenport, Lexing- James Bell, Powelton, ton, Hancock, S. J. Bush, Irwington, Win. B. Nelms, Elber- Wilkinson, ton, Dr. Cain, Cambridge, John A. Simmons, Go- Abbeville District, she!:, Lincoln, South Carolina. Mail Arrangements. POST OFFICE, I Washington, Ga., January, 1841. y AUGUSTA MAIL. ARRIVES. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 5, A. M. CLOSES. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, at 12, M. MILLEDGEVILLE MAIL. ARRIVES. Sunday, Wednesday, aud Friday, at 8, A. M. CLOSF.S. Monday, Wednesday, aud Friday', at 11, A. M. CAROLINA MAIL. ARRIVES. .Monday, Wednesday, aad Friday, at 11, A. M. CLOSES. Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 8, A. M. ATHENS MAIL. ARRIVES. Sunday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. CLOSES. Sunday and Wednesday, at 9, A. M. ELBERTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Thursday, at 8, P. M. | Thursday, at 8, P. M. LINCOLNTON MAIL. ARRIVES. CLOSES. Friday, at 12, M. ] Friday, at 12, M. ——————l 03= There will be a three day’s Meeting in this place Jit the Methodist Episcopal Church, commencing Thursday night the 6th day of May next; to be protracted ii circum stances authorize. April 15,1841. COTTING & BUTLER, ATTORMES, HAVE taken an OFFICE over Cozart & Woods Store. March 11,1841. 29 ’ new goodsT THE Subscriber has just received from New York, anew and handsome assortment of Muslins, Calicoes, Linens, Lawns, Hosiery, Ribbons, Fancy Shawls, Broadcloths, Cassimers, Summer Cloths, and Georgia Nankeens. lie also keeps on hand, a general assortment of Hardware, Cutlery, Crockery, Saddlery, ’ Hats, Shoes, Drugs and Medicines, School Books and Stationary, GROCERIES, &c. All of which will be sold on reasonable terms for Cash or credit. A. A. CLEVELAND. April 15, 1841. 4t 33 Dividend .Vo. 46. BANK STATE OF GEORGIA, > Savannah, 23d April, 1841. ] TITHE Board of Directors having this day de dared a Dividend, No. 46, of $3 50 per share on the Capital Stock of this Bank for six months ending on 3d instant, the same will be paid to the respective Stockholders thereof, or to their order, on and after Wednesday next A. PORTER, Cashier, jl 29. 3t 35 ” \~ - For Sale. iijfUrftTl A first-rate young HORSE, in JIliJ good condition, large, and used to * the Plough. Apply to the Printer of this paper. April 29,18(1. 35 From the Brother Jonathan. THE DEATH OF HARRISON. BY N. P. WILLIS. What! soar'd the old eagle to die at the sun! Lies he stiff with the spread wings at the goal he had won! And there spirits, more blest than the planet of even, Who mount to their zenith, then melt into Hea ven— No waning of fire, no auenrhimr of rav .>n, using, tun using, wnen passing away : Farewell, gallant Eagle ! thou'rt buried in light! God-speed unto Heaven, lost star of our night! Death ! Death in the White House ! Ah, nev er before, Trod his skeleton foot on the President’s floor! He is look’d for in hovel, and dreaded in hall— The king in his closet keeps hatchment and pal!— The youth in his birth-place, the old man at home, Make clean from the door-stone the path to the tomb ; i But the lord of this mansion was cradled not here— ’ In a church-yard far oft’ stands Ins beckoning bier ! He is here as the wave-crest heaves flashing on high— As the arrow is stopp’d by its prize in the sky— The arrow to earth, and the foam to the shore— Death finds them when swiftness and sparkle are o’er. But Harrison’s death fills the climax of story — He went with his old stride—from glory to glory! Lay his sword on his breast! There’s no spot on its blade j In whose cankering breath his bright laurels will fade ! ’Twas the first to lead on at humanity’s call— It was stay’d with sweet mercy when “ glory” was all! As calm in the council as gallant in war, He fought lor his country, and not its “ hurrah !” In the path of the hero with pity he trod— Let him pass with his sword to the presence of God ! What more ! Shall we on, with his ashes ! Yet, stay ! He hath rul’d the wide realm of a king, in his day! At his word, like a Monarch’s, went treasure and land— The bright gold of thousands has pass’d thro’ his hand— Is there nothing to show of his glittering hoard 1 No jewel to deck the rude hilt of his sword— No trappings—no horses I —what had he, but now 1 !On !—on with his ashes ! —lie left but his plough ! Brave old Cincinnatus ! Unwind ye his sheet! Let him sleep as he liv’d— with his purse at his feet! Follow now, as ye list! The first mounter to day Is the nation—whose father is taken away ! Wife, children and neighbor, may moan at bis knell— He was “ lover and friend” to his country, as well! For the stars on our banner, grown suddenly dim, Let us weep, in our darkness—but weep not for him! Not for him—who, departing, leaves millions in tears ! Not for him—who has died full of honor aud years ! Not for him—who ascended Fame’s ladder so high From the round at the top he has stepp’d to the sky! It is blessed to go when so ready to die ! TiIBCELLAi\EOI)S. gossiping. The following is exquisite—alas ! that it should be—for its truth. We publish it in the hope that it may reach some who arc guilty perhaps from mere thoughtless ness, of the odious practice there set forth. The mirror thus held up with such excel lent tact, must reflect too detestable a pic ture to be endured for a moment. It is cop ied from a late work by Miss Sedgwick, cal led Means and Ends—from the section “On Conversation.” The most prevailing faultof conversation in our country, and I believe, in all social communities, is gossiping. As weeds most infest the richest soils, so gossiping most a bounds amidst the social virtues in small towns, where there is the most extended mutual acquaintance, where persons live in the closest relations, resembling a large fam ily circle. To disturb the sweet uses of the little communities by gossiping, is surely to forfeit the benefit of one of the kindest arrangements of Providence. In great and busy cities, where people PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) MAY 6, IS 11. live in total ignorance of their neighbours, where they cannot tell how they live, and hardly know when they die, there is no neighbourhood, and there is no gossiping. But need there be this poisonous weed o mongthe flowers—this blight upon the fruit, my young friends ? You may understand better precisely what comes under the head of gossiping, if ; 1 give you some examples of it. In a certain small thickly settled town, there lives a family, consisting ofa man, his wife, and his wife’s sister. Me has a little shop, it may be a jeweller s, saddler's, shoo maker’s or what we call a store —no mat te- ...l.tel, since ho earns enough to live most comfortably, with the help ot Ins wife and sister, who are noted for their industry and economy. One would think they had nothing todo but to enjoy their own com forts, and aid and pity those less favored than themselves. But instead of all this, they volunteer to supervise all the sins, fol lies, and short comings of tl.eir neighbors. The husband is not a silent partner. He does his full share of the low work of this gossiping trio. Go to see them when you will, you may hear the last news of every family within half a mile. For example, as follows : “ Mr. gave one hundred and fifty dollars for this new wagon, and he had no need of anew one ; the old one has not run more than two years.” “ Mrs. , has got anew hired help ; but she won’t stay long ; it’s come and go there.” “ Mrs. , had another new gown at meeting yesterday, which makes the fifth in less than a year, and every one of tier girls had new ribbands on their bonnets ; it is a good tiling to have rich friends ; but, for my part, I had rather wear my old rib bands.” “There go Sam Bliss’s people with a barrel of flour ; it was but yesterday she was at the Judge’s begging.” “ None of the widow Day’s girls were at meeting ; but they can walk out as soon as the sun is down.” ■ This is but a specimen of the talk of these unfortunate people, who seem to have turned their home into a common sewer through which all the sins and foibles of the neighborhood run. Yes; but their minds have run to waste, and there is some taint, I fear, at their hearts. The noted gossip Miss , makes a visit in a town where she lias been previous ly a stranger. She divides her time a mong several families. She is social, and what we think is mis-called agreeable ; for she is perpetually talking of persons and things. She wins a too easy confidence, and she returns home with an infinite store of family anecdotes. She knows that Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so, who are supposed to live happily, are really on bad terms, and that he broke the hearts of two other women before he married his wife ; she knows the particulars, but she has promised not to tell. She has found out that a certain family,who for ten years have been supposed to live verv harmoniously with a step-mother, are really eminently wretched. She heard that Mr- , who apparently is in very flourishing circumstances, has been on the brink of bankruptcy for flic last ton years, &c. &c. Could this woman find nothing in visiting anew scene to excite her mind but such trumpery ? We have given you this example to show you that the sin of gossiping pervades some communities.— This woman did not create these stories. She heard them all, the individuals who told them to her, little thinking that they in turn would become the subjects of similar remark to the very persons whose affairs they were communicating. What would we think of persons who went about collecting for exhibition, exam ples of the warts, wens, and cancers, with which their fellow beings were afflicted ? And yet, would not their employment be more honorable, more humane, at least than this gossip-monger’s ? We have heard such talk as follows, be tween ladies, wives, and mothers, the wives of educated men, and persons who were called iducated women : “ Have you heard that Emma Ellis is going to Washington ?” “To Washing ton ! how on earth can the Ellises afford a winter in Washington ?” “ Oh, you know they are not particular about their debts, and they have six girls to dispose of, and find rather a dull market here.” “ Have you heard the Newtons are going to the country to live ?” “ Bless me !no ; what’s that for ?” “ They say, to educate their children ; but my dress-maker, Sally Smith, who works for Mrs. Newton, says she is worn out with dinner parties. Ho runs the house down with company.” “ Oh, I suppose they are obliged to go to economize. You know she dresses her children so extravagantly. I saw Mary Newton at the Theatre (she is no older than my Grace,) with a diamond ferronier.” “Diamond, was it? Julia told me it was an aqua-marina. The extravagance of gome people is shocking! I don’t won | der the men are out of patience. Don’t tell it again, because Ned Miller told me in confidence. He actually has locked up all his wife’s worked pocket handkerchiefs. Well, whatever else my husband com plaias of, lie can t find fault with my ex travagance.” Perhaps not! but faults far more heinous than extravagance this poor woman had to account for —the pernicious words for which we must be brought into judgment. 1 hope it may appear incredible to you my young friends, ihat women, half way through this short life, with the knowledge of their immortal destiny, with a world without them, and a world w ithin to ex j plorc and make acquaintance with, with | the delightful interests and solemn respon- 1 sibilities of parents upon them, should so dishonor God’s good gift of the tongue, should so waste tlicir time, and poison so cial life. But be on your guard. If your minds are not employed on higher objects, and your hearts on better things, you will talk idly about your friends and acquain tance. The habit of gossiping begins in youth. I once attended a society of young persons, from thirteen to seventeen years of age,who met for benevolent purposes. “ Is this reading or talking afternoon ?” asked one of the girls, j “ Reading,” replied the President!” and I have brought Percy’s Reliques of Eng lish Poetry to read to you.” “ Is not that light reading ?” asked Julia Ivors. “ Those are old ballads and songs.” “ A cs, I suppose it will bo called light reading.” Julia, who had the lightest of all minds, and the most voluble of tongues, preferred talking to any reading, and without loss of time, she began to a knot of girls, who too much resembled her. “Did you notice Matilda Smith last Sun day ?” “Yes, indeed; she had on anew silk dress !” “ That is the very thing I wanted to find out, whether you were taken in with it. It was nothing but her old sky-blue dyed.” “ Can that be ? why she lias worn it ever since she was thirteen. 1 wonder I did not see the print of the tacks.” “ I did,” interposed another of the Com mittee of Investigation. “ I took a good look at it as she stood in the door. She couldn’t deceive me with aunt Sally’s wed ding sky-blue dyed black.” “ 1 don’t think Matilda would care wheth er you were deceived or not,” said Mary Morris, the youngest member of the Socie ty, coloring up to her eyes. “Oh! I forgot, Mary,” said Julia Ivors, “ that Matilda is your cousin.” “ It is not because she is my cousin,” re plied Mary. “ Well, what is it then ?” Mary’s tears dropped on her work, but she made no other reply. She had too much delicacy to proclaim her cousins pri vate good deeds ; and she did not tell how Matilda, having had a small sum of money, which was to have been invested in anew silk gown, gave it instead, to her kind “ aunt Sally,” who was sinking under a long indisposition, which her physician said “ might be removed by a journey.” It was; and we believe Matilda cared little how much tiiese girls gossiped about her dyed frock. Julia Ivers turned the conversation by saying, “ Don’t you think it strange that Mrs. Sandtord lets Maria ride out with Walter Isbel ?” “ Yes, indeed ; and what is worse yet, accepts presents from him.” “ Why ! does she ?” exclaimed Julia, staring open her eyes, and taken quite a back by another person knowing a bit of gossip which had not yet reached her ears. “ Yes, she does ; he brought her three elegant plants from New-York, and she wears a ring which he must have given her : for you know the Sandfords could not afford to buy such things ; and besides, they never do.” I have given but a specimen of various characters and circumstances that were discussed, till the young gossips were in terrupted by a proposition from the Presi dent. thattlie name of the society should be changed ; “for,” as she said, “the little j | charities they did with their needles, were ! | a poor offset against the uncharitablencss : of their tongues.” j’ There is a species of gossiping uggrava- j ted by treachery ; but, bad as this is, it is ; sometimes committed more from thought- ! lessness than from malice. A girl is invi-j, ted to pass a day, a week, or a month, it j may be, in a family. Admitted to such an intimacy, she may see and hear much that the family would not wish to have reported, j Circumstances often occur, and remarks j arc made, from which no harm would come j if they were published to the world, provi ded what went before and came alter could ! i likewise be know n ; but taken out of their ; connection they make a false impression. ! It is by relating the disjointing circumstan- | cos, and repeating fragments of conversa- j tions, that so much mischief is done by those j admitted into the bosom ofa family. You know that with the Arabs, parta king salt is a pledge of fidelity, because the salt is a symbol of hospitality by never nia- j king any disparaging remarks or idle com ; munications about those in whose families j i you are received. I know persons who [ j will say unblushingly, “I amsurc that Mr. i !So and So is not kind to his wife. ” I saw j j enough to convince me of it when I was j j there. “ Mrs. S. is very mean in her fam- j j ily.” “ llow do you know that ?” “I am j sure I ought to know, for I staid a month in j j her house.” “If you wish to be convinced ’ I that Mrs. L. lias no government over her children, go and stay there a week as I did. “ Tlicß.’s and their family try to live hap -1 pily together! but if you were in their fam ily as much as I am, you would see that there is no love lost between them. Nowjyou perceive my young friends, that j the very reason which should have sealed this gossip’s-lips, is adduced as tiie ground of your faith in her evil report. I have dwelt long on this topic of gossip- j ing my young friends, because, as 1 said j before, 1 believe it to boa prevailing fault jin our young and social country. The on ly sure mode of extirpating it is by the cul tivation of your minds and the purification of your hearts. All kinds and degrees of gossiping arc as distasteful to an elevated character, as gross and unwholesome food is to a well trained appetite. From the Baltimore Sun. EXECUTION OF A MURDERER. His Confession —His Extraordinary Resus citation. John White, convicted of die murder of Messrs. Gwatkins and Glenn, on board aj flat boat, on the Ohio river, was executed ! at Louisville, Ky., on the Btli inst., a little j j after six o’clock in the morning. The ! Judge in sentencing him adjudged liis exc- ■. cution to take place at any time between j the hours of CA. m. and 3 p. m., and the SheritT, without making the fact notorious, chose the earliest moment so as to prevent the immense crowd which would have been in attendance from witnessing it. But few persons were therefore present. lie died bard—the rope not “ playing” well, occa- sioning the not to slip over his chin instead of being under his ear. His neck was not broken by the fall. Previous to his death | he wrote a letter to his father, in which lie j stated that he was present when the unfor tunate men were murdered, that lie did not participate in the act, but was compelled to beg his own life from the torn who murder ed them. Ho name® the men as Charles j Short and Jerry , surname not given. J He was cut down after hanging about twen- i ty-five minutes, and his body given over to j the doctors for the purpose of experiment. The Louisville City Gazette gives the an nexed extraordinary circumstances atten ding an experiment with the galvanic bat tery : White's Resuscitation, or Wonders of Magnetism. —lt is generally considered that White's execution, yesterday, was not in the most approved style, for the mere pleasure of the operation. The knot by some manceuver instead of being fixed by his ear, where it would have facilitated the breaking of his neck, happened to come in his face, by which means the choking was of the most imperfect sort. lie hung squirming and kicking a long time before he surrendered, and occasionallygave forth blasts from his mouth and nostrils. After hanging about twenty-two minutes he was cut down and conveyed away, to be experimented upon by Philosophers and Anatomists. Ho was an excellent subject for experimenting upon, as the execution was such that no disorganization had taken place. The face of the corpse did not look half so bad as they generally do, and in 11. .1. K APPEL, Printer. fact bn was considered not much ditlercnt from a man twenty minutes drowned. The poles ofa powerful Galvanic pile, which had been prepared for the occasion, were immediately applied to him, and to the unutterable joy of all present, with the most perfect success. On the first application of the fluid to his body, which was yet warm and trembling, a universal tremor seemed to pass over bis frame, and fancy, if fancy you can, tiic surprise, the astonish ment of all, w hen of a sudden he arose upon j his bench to a sitting posture, and w ith j great eagerness and impatience raised his | hands to his neck, trying to grasp the scarin 1 his flutters and tear it from his throat! Ho : first snatched at it with great rashness, as j though the rope was yet round his neck, | and then continued some moments picking j at the seam with his fingers, as though it j was something that adiieared to his throat I giving him great uneasiness. But this ; symptom was so >n forgotten, for almost the next moment, lie arose upon his ieet, raised j his arms level with liis breast, and opening | liis blood shot eyes, gave forth from liis | mouth a most terrific screech, after which j liis chest worked as if in respiration, in a j very violent maimer. Every one at this minute was as mute as death, every breath j was for a moment suspended, when Dr. D. j exclaimed, “by heaven’s, lie s alive ! Too great was the excitement, too intense and I 53 j absorbing was the interest and w onder, en j joyed and felt by all, to allow time or atten -1 tion fora reply to the remark. Every eye j was rivetted upon the agitated and shaking | corpse. The operator continued to let I upon it a full quantum of galvanic fluid, ! till the action upon its nerves becoming so | powerful that it made a tremendous bound, leaping, by a sort of an imperfect plunge, into a corner of the room, disengaging it self entirely from the wires which commu nicated the galvanism, i All immediately drew around the body. For a moment after its fall, it seemed per i fectly motionless and dead. Dr. I'. ap i preached, and taking hold of his arm, an | nounced that he thought lie felt a slight, i though single beat of the pulse. The ! galvanic operator was just going to arrange I his machine to give him another charge, ! when Dr. D. again exclaimed, ‘die is—he is alive ! he sighs ! he breathes!’’ And true enough, he did sigh ; lie gave a long gasp, at the same time raising and gently wa ving his right hand. 11 is sighs continued for a couple of minutes, when they ceased entirely, llis whole frame seemed to be somewhat agitated ; his chest heaved ; his legs trembled, and lie occasionally raised bis right arm. These effects were sup posed to be caused by the powerful influ ence of the galvanic fluid upon the nerves. None of these movements were yet sup j posed attributable to the action of life. It was considered that the animating princi ple of nature had left his frame and could never be again restored. Why not? are | not people who have been longer deprived | oflife than he had been, often times res ! tored ? Then why may lie not be resusci tated ? were questions that seemed to en gage the minds of all. In the very height of anxiety and suspence, Dr. D. announced that lie could feel feeble pulsation. A piece of broken looking glass was immedi ately held before his nostrils, which was instantly covered with a cloud. “He breathes ! he breathes !”vvas the unanimous shout. All was the most intense anxiety for some soconds, when the motion of his chest, as in the act of respiration, became visible. “His pulse,” said Dr. D. “does now certainly beat; lo !” he at the same instant, exclaimed, “lie opens his eyes 1” And horrible, indeed, were those eyes to look upon ! lie rolled them wildly in their sockets,occasionally closing them, and giv ing most terrific scowls. In about five minutes his breathing became tolerably frequent; probably he would give one breath where a healthy man would give 4. 11 is breathing, however, rapidly increased, m frequency and strength. Dr. D. began to speak to him, but he gave no indications that he heard a word. lie looked upon the scene around him, with the most dcathlv indifference, seemingly alive to nothing. A pin was tried upon his foot. Ho moved his foot, though not very suddenly, and re sented the act with a horrible frown, but a frown containing something of sadness. His action soon began to partake of a more energetic character. He began again to feel of his neck, and work his body, as tho’ in tho severest agony. Young L., a medi cal student of Dr. S. approached him, and taking hold of his arm and shoulder, White rose upon his feet, took two steps, being thus supported, and seated himself in an aruv [VOLUME XXVI.